


Something Old, Something New

by sweeterthanthis



Series: Daddy Knows Best [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Has No Shame, Daddy Kink, Derogatory Language, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Facials, Stepdad Bucky, Taboo, Vaginal Sex, breath play, mild asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthanthis/pseuds/sweeterthanthis
Summary: To this day you couldn’t work out why he’d chosen your mother. They were total opposites, a mismatched couple if ever you saw one. Yet, you watched it play out – thinking, hoping, that he’d never go through with it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Daddy Knows Best [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133153
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Something Old, Something New

You’d always wanted to get married. Ever since you were a little girl. Dreamt of the perfect man swooping in and carrying you off into the sunset.

You remembered the afternoons you’d run around the house draped in her old net curtains, a makeshift veil, daydreaming about the day you’d meet your Prince.

The hours you’d spent twirling on the porch, reciting the stereotypical wedding vows like a worn-out prayer.

You had it all mapped out.

At the tender age of 9 years old, you’d pictured him to be tall, dark, and impossibly handsome.

A man with a smile that could break a thousand hearts, eyes as deep and mysterious as the ocean, a gentleman that would sweep you off your feet and make your heart ache in the sweetest way.

You didn’t picture that the very man you’d only dreamt about would land in your lap, in the form of your mothers fiancé.

The day he walked into your house; you knew you were fucked. Your mother had been desperate to find a wealthy man and tie him down. She’d been living off her father all of her life, and now she needed someone new to exploit. And Bucky Barnes had fallen for it — hook, line, and sinker.

To this day you couldn’t work out why he’d chosen your mother. They were total opposites, a mismatched couple if ever you saw one. Yet, you watched it play out – thinking, hoping, that he’d never go through with it.

You’d been able to accept it, the bitter pill that he was balls deep in your mother every night instead of you. You pushed down your attraction, divulged in private moments in your bedroom late at night, touching your cunt to thoughts of his hands all over your body.

And you managed it, for a while. Until that night.

_“What’s got you up so late, Kid?”_

_You huffed, frustrated at the condescending pet name rumbling low in his throat._

_He looked fucking edible, as always. Grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, that tantalising trail of dark hair leading beneath the waistband, the dim light of the room accentuating every muscle of his exposed torso._

_“Thirsty, and I’m not a kid.”_

_You gulped the milk from your glass, eyes anywhere but the perfectly chiselled muscles of his back as he bent down to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. You wondered if he ever felt it; the sexual tension that consumed you when you were in his presence._

_“I can see that.”_

_You almost choked on your milk, a droplet escaping the corner of your mouth as you coughed, curiosity getting the better of you as you set the glass down on the countertop._

_“What’s that s’posed to mean?”_

_Bucky’s lips twitched up into a cocky smirk, lifting the water bottle to his lips and sipping from it – never once taking his eyes off your face._

_It was only once he’d locked his stare with yours that his eyes began to wander; slowly, down over your cotton covered chest, raking over the curve of your waist, lower and lower. You silently thanked yourself for putting panties on beneath your thin, white nightdress – certain that if you hadn’t, the slick evidence of your arousal would be sliding down the insides of your thighs at that very moment._

_“You know what it means—” he started, screwing the cap back on the bottle and putting it down next to your abandoned glass, “pretty little thing like you? Sight for sore eyes, Princess.”_

_You felt your heart pitter-patter in your chest, your cheeks burning, thighs clenching together just a little at the insinuation that he found you attractive – felt even a touch of what you did when you looked at him._

_“I’m—I’m gonna go to bed now. Goodnight, Bucky.”_

_He reached out to you then, palm gripping your bare bicep, the heat from his body searing into your skin, his warm breath tickling your face._

_“I know you feel it too.”_

_Your eyes wandered to his plump, pink lips, and back up to his intense stare. You’d never noticed how beautiful and captivating his eyes were until that moment, and it made you weak at the knees._

_“I don’t—”_

_You melted when his lips met yours, stubble scratching the sensitive flesh of your cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Glued to the spot, arms limp at your sides, you relaxed your mouth; his tongue slipping into your mouth, the taste of him intoxicating._

_His hands gripped your waist, a shudder running down your spine when you felt his fingertips pressing into your soft flesh – his hunger evident as he pulled you flush against his chest with a force that made you stumble, his strong arms holding you up._

_A prominent thud echoing through the floorboards above you both had you leaping back from his embrace, your hand flying to your lips, tracing them with your fingers wondering what the fuck had just happened._

You’d stupidly thought that he wouldn’t go through with it – that he’d call the engagement off.

He didn’t.

And his affection towards you didn’t begin and end that night in the kitchen. Subtle touches here and there to begin with; his hand brushing against yours intentionally, the way he looked at you when your mothers back was turned. It drove you crazy.

Moments of madness where you’d get just a little too close for comfort, ripped back to sanity and reality when you came to your senses.

He was to become your Stepdad.

You wondered if it was some kind of sick game if he got his kicks from your bashful reactions to his attention. You found yourself aching for it. Found more and more reasons to creep down to the kitchen at night on the off chance that he might get the hint.

He never did, and you never asked why.

And now, as you rose your champagne flute to toast the Bride and Groom, dread, and disappointment swirling in the pit of your stomach, you forced a smile.

You’d barely looked at him, couldn’t bear the sight of him in that delectable Armani suit, your mother hanging off his arm in custom Vera Wang. It made you sick. The whole affair was so extravagant, exotic flowers adorning the tables, lavish gift bags for all the guests.

It was everything your mother wasn’t, everything you’d dreamt of for yourself those days back in your mothers kitchen as a child – not a care in the world.

You made it through the five-course meal, barely touching your food, instead filling the void with red wine and fake laughter. All things considered; you were doing okay for a girl who’d been thinking about fucking her mother’s fiancé – husband – for the past nine months.

That was until the first dance. You hovered on the side of the dance floor, pretending to take photos on your phone in one hand, a glass of red balancing in the other, swaying back and forth to the beat of the music. You zoned out, eyes fixed on the happy couple, but mind in a distant reality. One where the man that you’d wanted more than you’d ever wanted anybody hadn’t just become your Stepdad.

“Your turn, Princess.”

His voice snatched you from your thoughts, hand outstretched to take your own, his lips curved into a smile. You froze, panic twisting your gut, looking like a doe in the headlights when he reached to take the wine glass from your flimsy grasp.

No sooner than you’d let go did you feel the cool trickle of liquid seep through the front of your dress, crimson soaking into the peach chiffon of your dress, tarnishing the fabric and soaking your breast.

“Shit, sorry.” He hummed, grabbing a napkin from a nearby table and dabbing your chest lightly. The sensation made you weak, the taboo feeling of lust rising in your stomach, warmth flooding the apex of your thighs. “Here, c’mon. I’ll show you where to clean up.”

You caught your mothers eye, but she simply shook her head and laughed, too high off the luxurious surroundings to notice her newlywed Husband pawing at her daughter in front of her oblivious guests.

He took your hand then, pulling you gently through the giddy crowd and away from the romantic festivities. He never looked back, not once as he led you up the huge staircase, your eyes widening when you realised your destination.

The Bridal Suite.

You couldn’t help but shiver as he ushered you through the door, the hand resting on your lower back not lost on you.

You felt uneasy, trapped in a situation that you’d silently begged to find yourself in for all those months; chained to the notion that this was the first time you’d been alone with him since that night.

“Bathrooms through there, sure your Mom’s got something you can borrow.”

You didn’t miss the way his fingertips feathered against the nape of your neck as he steered you in the right direction, your legs heavy while you made your way to the extravagant bathroom.

Unable to look back over your shoulder, a concoction of fear and anticipation bubbling in your chest.

Closing the bathroom door behind you, you tried to stop your hands from shaking but it was fruitless.

You lifted the pretty, peach chiffon dress up over your head — your chest marred slightly by the Merlot.

The stain wasn’t coming out with water and soap, there wasn’t a chance in hell.

So you waited, for what you didn’t know. Too frightened to call out for him, just a baby bunny in the headlights waiting for the big bad wolf to come and eat her up.

You yelped when you heard the door click open, holding the dress to your chest to cover your modesty – his eyes raking over every exposed inch of your flesh.

Hungry. Excited. _Desperate_.

“You know what they say” he purred, your gaze following his down to the immaculate platinum wedding band, a sickly smirk rising on those plush, pink lips “something old.”

He stepped forward then, the palm of his hand grabbing roughly at your ass.

“Something new.”

Your breasts pressed flush against his sternum, his fingertips brushing lightly against the delicate diamond necklace your mother insisted you wear for the occasion.

“Something borrowed.”

His hand dragging up your hip, the waistband of your lace panties hooked beneath the curl of his index finger.

“Something blue.”

The sensation of soft lace raking down your thighs struck you dumb. Months of secret pining, so many nights longing for the moment he’d finally put his hands on you, had all come to this.

“B-Bucky, what are you—”

“Daddy. That’s what you’re gonna call me from now on, Princess.”

It was sick. Truly abhorrent. But _fuck_ , the rush of electricity between your legs didn’t give a second thought to right and wrong.

Before you knew it, the dress was thrown at your feet, back pressed up against him as he held you tight against his chest. His light stubble scratched against your cheek, leaving behind a delightful burn that you ached to feel between your thighs.

“You walk ‘round that fuckin’ house with this body, and you didn’t think that one day I was gonna break, huh? Look at this, fuckin’ look at it.”

Gripping your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at your reflection in the beauty mirror. It wasn’t the sight of your bare chest heaving against the cool marble sink that had you awestruck, nor was it your pouted lips glistening with the slick of his saliva.

No, it was none of that.

It was the way his eyes, darkened with lust and hunger, locked with yours – the sardonic smirk etched upon his features, his open mouth breathing against your cheek, the way his chest heaved against your sagging form.

“All fucked up, and cock drunk for Daddy. Haven’t even touched you yet.”

The sound of the forbidden title rasping against your dewy skin had your thighs clenching together, heat throbbing in your core, hips winding against the palm roughly kneading your ass.

“Please, you shouldn’t—”

His palm curling around your throat had you keening, the unspoken ownership seeping from his actions causing you to whimper in need. You didn’t want him to stop, of that he was acutely aware.

“Shouldn’t what, Princess? Shouldn’t do this?”

His free hand dragging up the back of your thigh, fingers dipping between your sodden folds, the pad of this thumb pressing down on your swollen clit. You couldn’t hide it, couldn’t hold in the pathetic whine that fell from your lips.

“God, please just—”

“What is it, huh? Tell me what you want, tell me what you’ve wanted this whole time?” He teased, your cunt pulsing against his slick digits. The hand on your throat tightened as you pushed back against him, desperate for friction, ass rippling against his palm as he brought it down against your supple flesh as a warning.

All coherent thought was long gone, the taboo ramping up your need for him, unable to separate desire from guilt. The sound of his zipper and the blunt crown of his cock slipping through your plump folds had your body quaking.

“Ju- _fuck_ -just fuck me Daddy!”

You couldn’t hold in the desperate wail that bounced off the bathroom tiles, fingernails sliding against black marble, his cock splitting you open in one vicious thrust.

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. This what I’ve been missin’ this whole time? Tight as fuck.” Your back arched involuntarily, the flesh of your ass bouncing off his hips as he drove himself into your soaked, hot pussy. “Shit, I love it. Can you feel it? Feel it pulling me in? Fuck, you’re so much tighter than your Mom.”

A hysterical sob caught in your throat, the harsh reminder that there you were; in the Bridal Suite, bent over the stylish sink, stuffed full of your new Stepdad.

“C’mon, Princess. Waited so fuckin’ long for this, wanted it to be a moment to remember. Tell me how you wan’ it. Tell Daddy how good it feels.”

Your hair wrapped around his fist, back pulled flush against his chest, one hand still curled around your throat; he stilled.

His gaze once again locking with yours in the mirror, he wound his hips torturously, eyes fluttering closed just for a moment as he relished the feel of your cunt pulsing around his meaty girth.

_“Tell me.”_

“Fuck me, please fuck me, I wanna feel it.” The words were shameless, tone matching the sheer wantonness of your actions, fingers dancing down your bare belly to meet your sensitive nub. The pressure increasing around your throat, you flexed your muscles around him, the pad of your index finger working tiny ministrations and making your knees weak. “Fuck me good, Daddy. Fuck me hard.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at the way his jaw clenched, the low rumble of a growl in his chest, the open mouthed, filthy kiss he left against your temple — he may have been the one in control of your body, but you were equally as in control of him.

He pulled out then, right to the tip, his teeth nipping at the shell of your ear; dewy from the perspiration of his hot breath.

“Didn’t think it’d be this easy.” One forceful thrust and he was buried to the hilt, crown nudging your cervix to the point of discomfort. “You gonna be Daddy’s good little whore?”

His thrusts were slow, torturous almost – the way he groaned in your ear each time you fluttered around him causing you to whimper in satisfaction. The hand around your throat moved lower, grasping at one of your breasts, your nipple pinched between his fingertips.

“Yes – _fuck_ – yes, Daddy!”

“Good fuckin’ girl. You gonna let Daddy fuck this little pussy whenever he wants? Keep it nice and precious for me? Those college boys can’t fuck you like this, can they?”

The obscene, sloppy sounds as he fucked into you made your toes curl; cheek pressed harder against the mirror with each stroke of his cock against your insides.

“G-god no, just you. Only you.”

Firm hands gripped your waist, spinning you round and lifting you onto the bathroom counter swiftly.

Every inch of you exposed to him, his satisfied gaze fixed on your fucked-out cunt as he slid every inch back inside.

“You gonna let me come into your room late at night? Fuck you into the mattress while Mommy sleeps next door?”

The thought of it should have made you feel physically sick, but his fingers pinching your clit sent your head spinning; willing to do or say anything he asked.

“Please, Daddy.” You breathed, resting your elbows on the marble behind you, knees hooked over his crisp, Armani covered elbows. “Wan’ you to come fuck me every night.”

The sound that came from him was frightening, practically feral. Made your insides churn in the best possible way. Rolling your hips down against him, meeting each stroke of his cock, you watched as he disappeared inside of you – unable to stop yourself from shuddering at the sight of it stretching your little hole.

“Yeah? _Fuck_. Gonna have to be quiet for me. Not doin’ a very god job of that right now, huh?”

Shock and pleasure hit you tenfold when his palm slapped against your pussy, head thrown back blissfully, words left your mouth that you’d never thought yourself capable of thinking, let alone saying.

“Wanna suck Daddy’s cock, please Daddy. Lemme taste.”

He leant forward then, unable to stop himself from capturing your mouth with his, his tongue licking up into your mouth, teeth biting at your top lip.

“Come for me. Come for me and I’ll let you suck it.”

Flesh slapped against flesh, each insistent thrust of his hips pressing his cock against your g-spot. Two fingers swiped across your clit lazily, back and forth, up and down. Little sparks of pleasure slowly setting your core ablaze.

The way he looked at you had you hurtling over the edge, unable to stop your body from convulsing as euphoria wracked every bone in your body. Your thighs hooked around his waist, you rode it out, babbling nonsense while the aftershocks of bliss prickled in your belly.

“So fuckin’ hot. Fuck, I gotta have that mouth.” His fingers tangled in your hair, he pulled you to your feet; your knees giving out like jelly as you landed on the plush carpet with a thud.

“Open up wide, Princess.” His thumb stroked against the corner of your mouth, coaxing your lips apart. “Be a good girl and stick that pretty tongue out.”

It was immediate – the way your body reacted to his instruction. Tongue flat against your chin, you looked up him through hazy eyes, silently begging him to fuck your mouth.

His eyes never left yours as he slid the tip between your lips, your cheeks hollowing more with every inch. Your palm wrapped around the base of him, you bobbed your head, full of enthusiasm as you slurped around his girth.

“Mouth was made for me. Gonna put those fuckin’ lips around my dick whenever I ask. Gonna be a good girl for me, ain’t that right?”

You choked on your garbled words, saliva dripping from your lips as you worked him with your mouth and your hand simultaneously. His length throbbing against the roof of your mouth, you knew he was close, his balls held firmly in your hand, a gentle tug causing him to utter filthy praise.

“Gonna come on that sweet, sweet face.” The thought of it made you weak, made you want to melt. “That’s it. That’s Daddy’s good girl. Oh— _fuck_ – that’s it. That’s fuckin’ it.”

He yanked your head back then, snatching his cock from your grasp and pumping it furiously. He looked fucking beautiful in the throws of his sick pleasure, that much couldn’t be denied.

The sound of him coming undone was downright sinful; rough moans mixed with soft whimpers. One hand cupped the column of your throat as warmth trickled against your skin, smattering against your tongue and cheeks. Mouth wide open, wanting to catch every last bit and savour the taste, you licked at every pearly drop you could find. 

“Look at that. Daddy’s filthy girl.”

You couldn’t help but smile proudly at his praise, knelt on the bathroom floor of the Bridal Suite covered in his spend. Nothing about it was romantic, not a damn thing.

But fuck, if he didn’t make your heart flutter in your chest. The invisible chain that had pulled you towards him since the day you first met was more present than ever, pulling you closer, winding itself tighter around your chest.

He knelt down then, fingers pressing down onto your tongue, forcing his cum further into your mouth.

The soft kiss he pressed against your forehead threw you, eyes wide as you watched him tuck himself away and straighten his tie in the mirror.

“I just knew this was gonna be a special fuckin’ day.”


End file.
